The House
by Nekoyaz
Summary: Alice had all her needs and wants handed to her before she could even ask. But why was she so lonely? Her unspoken wishes were granted once more but with it brings conflict she never considered. The house only needs one doll.
1. Chapter 1

The glowing embers in the fireplace came to life in cheerful flames. The candles perched about the room flickered awake. Lights illuminated in the rest of the house like dominoes, one after the other. Eyes were already open. The new span of consciousness had begun.

Alice pushed back the blankets and placed her feet on the patterned rug. It was from Arabia according to the stories in the green and gold book on the third book shelf in the fiction section. In the stories they had magic and could take people away on adventures. She placed her feet into slippers and moved to the wardrobe. It contained today's outfit and nothing else. It was the maroon dress again. She pulled out the cream blouse hanging next to it and slipped it over her head, tying the ribbon at her neck. The ends of the sleeves required buttoning to cinch them tightly to the wrists. Oh bother. She pulled the petticoat up over the bloomers before tucking the ends of the blouse under the band. Finally she could put on the dress. As she admired the rose detailing in the lace of the dress, she noticed a pair of brown heeled boots in the bottom of the wardrobe. So she was wearing shoes today. She pulled her hair up and out of her face in simple twintails.

Alice left her bedroom for breakfast. The food was displayed simply on plain white dishes. She ate alone as she had done for all of her memory. When the meal was finished she went to her favorite room, the library. It was lined from ceiling to floor with books. Alice had, on rather boring days, rearranged them in all the ways she could think of; by author, title, color, length, apparent genre. There were a total of 5,104 books precisely. She'd read most of the fiction and was now working her way through the non-fiction.

Today she was reading a book on music. The book explained tempo and tenor and scales. She'd only heard music a few times. One instrument made quick sounds that varied between high and low pitches at the same time. Another made noises similar to a whistle. Both were hauntingly beautiful and rarely came from the direction of the East wing. No matter how much Alice searched, she could never find the source of the sounds. From books, she'd narrowed down the whistling instrument to one of several wind instruments. As she read her current book, she tried to whistle and hum the tunes she'd created.

The only sound besides her humming was the sound of the page turning. It was quiet and warm. The peace she felt was disturbed by a loud screeching sound. Alice flung the book away and made a shriek of her own as her eyes searched for the source. The noise happened again. It continued in a series of patterns and, after listening with eyes wide, Alice realized it was music.

She ran down the halls the best she could in her boots, this time West not East. This end of the house was less explored. She'd been in most of the rooms, but she hadn't seen anything worth plundering through. She stopped outside the room the noise emitted from. The gilded handle would not turn. It was locked. Alice lightly knocked on the center of the door. The noise left and there was silence again. Alice pressed her ear to the door. There was nothing. No breathing, or footsteps, or floor boards creaking. The room was empty once more. Alice gave a frustrated huff before heading to the parlor.

She didn't know how or why, but she always knew where her next meal would be served. When she entered the parlor, her eyes gravitated to the darkest thing in the room. The mahogany grandfather clock stood still and lifeless in the corner. According to many stories and one book on cuckoo clocks, the hands were supposed to move and the pendulum swing. Using the cuckoo book she'd tried to take it apart and fix it, but the diagrams could only help her so much. For now, the clock was merely a piece of decoration instead of a time keeper. Alice sat in the striped silk chair next to the side table that contained a silver tray of sandwiches and tea.

As she ate, Alice took notice of how dusty the room had become. This room did not see much use. A parlor was for entertaining guests after all. She'd never had guests before, but that was no excuse to let the room be a squalor. If there ever were guests, it would be embarrassing for them to be entertained in such filth. She would just have to see to it then. It would give her something to do until she got tired and went to bed.

A bucket, soap, and cloths were conveniently available in the water closet when Alice went looking. She rolled up her sleeves and removed her shoes before she started wiping down the wooden furniture. The grandfather clock went from a faded black to its true reddish brown. She ran a cloth across the top of the fireplace as well as the decorative knick knacks that rested there. The giant rug underneath the chairs and couches was scrubbed to the best of her ability and the one velvet couch was only wiped at with a dry cloth as she wasn't sure how to clean either of them. She dusted lightly at the paintings of flowers and sunny meadows and thought of what it might feel like. And when she polished the floor, she imagined she was Cinderella cleaning for her evil step sisters.

The muscles of her arms ached by the time the room was clean. The last things she cleaned as she exited, where the gas light fixtures that she turned off one by one while cleaning them. The room was left in darkness besides the oil lamp that she carried out with her. The hall lamps extinguished as she descended to her room.


	2. Chapter 2

Her arms still hurt when she sat up after sleeping. She climbed from her bed and stretched out the sore muscles. When she opened the wardrobe she was surprised. She had never worn this dress before. She'd worn ones like it when they appeared from time to time. She suspected the red and green ones were for Christmas. But this one was blue.

Alice pulled the corset out and fitted it over herself then, with the use of the closed wardrobe knob, she tightened the laces at the back and tied them into a neat bow at the middle. The corset cover followed to prevent the pretty dress from being damaged by the corset. Instead of a petticoat, this time she tied a cushion to her waist over her backside. Finally she was able to pull on the dress and fasten the buttons that trailed to her bosom. She twisted and pinned her hair up to show off the neckline of the dress even though she knew no one save her would see. She donned a charm necklace and a pair of dark boots.

She wasn't sure what holiday it was that called for such fancy dress. She would have to consult the books on holidays. She entered the library and plucked the books from where she placed them and rested in her chair to read. She wore something floral a while ago. That meant spring right? The time when flowers were supposed to come out. She was midway through a book about Summer when the shrieking music from the day before caused her to squeak. This time she leapt from her chair, gripped her skirts, and rushed as briskly as her outfit would allow. She stood outside the door and caught her breath for a moment before clutching the gilded handle. It turned!

The room was dark, but the light from the hallway revealed its contents. A man sitting on a bed held a string instrument in his arms and shielded his eyes from the light.

"Who are you?!"

The man leapt from the bed, grabbed an object from the floor, and lifted it to strike. Alice screamed and backed away quickly. Her heavy skirts impeded her movements and she fell. The man's face showed a look of surprise.

"Ah jeez. Sorry dude, uh, dudette." He extended a hand to help her up.

Alice accepted the help as it was difficult to rise in this dress. She gave pause at the warmth of his hand. It was much larger than her own, the fingertips rough. This was another person. Another human being. She wasn't alone anymore. Once standing, she quickly let go. Where were her manners?

"I am Alice. Welcome to my home. What might your name be?"

"Alfred. Your home? This is my place? Wait what the fuck is that!" He pointed at the oil lamp wall fixture.

"Do not use such language! You are in the presence of a lady!"

"What?" Alfred looked about fearfully "How did I get here?"

"I do not know."

Alice wracked her brain for what to do. Ah! As a hostess she should lead her guest to the parlor to entertain him. What for she had no idea. But entertain him she would.

"Follow me please." Alfred followed but kept his focus on his surroundings, openly gawking.

Alice opened the door and let him in first. He chose the floral silk chair near the fire place.

"Would you like a cup of tea, Alfred?"

"Nah. I hate that leaf water shit."

That was incredibly rude of him to speak to her in such a way, but Alice was the hostess and needed to be polite so she refrained from correcting him. She folded up the cushion in her skirt so as to sit without crushing it as she rested on the edge of her chair. She poured herself a cup and doctored it to her liking. She took a sip of her drink before resting the cup back in its plate.

"Where are you from, Alfred?"

"The US."

"The US? Please do forgive me, but I've not heard of this place."

"What? How? It's like the most important country in whole world. The United States of America."

"Oh! America! Yes I've seen it on a map before. My apologies. And how is it there may I ask?"

"It's rad I guess. Ain't you ever seen one of our shows? I know they play them over there."

"I don't believe I have."

"Don't you have a TV?"

"What is a TV?"

They were interrupted by a loud chime. Alice nearly spilled her tea out of surprise. The grandfather clock continued to chime the hour. It was a sound Alice had never heard before. The hands on the clock face moved for the first time in her memory.

"Oh yeah, it's lunch time. You got anything to eat?"

"Excuse me?"

"You're excused. Where's the food at, homefry?"

Alice felt something she had only read about in books. Her face felt flush and she feared she would faint. She was feeling anger. She wanted to cause physical harm to her guest. How could one be so rude? How was it possible? She had to stay level headed. She was a lady after all. So she showed him to the dining room as a good hostess should and stewed her anger in silence.


	3. Chapter 3

Alice woke to the sound of that thing. The instrument her guest owned. It wasn't screeching like it had the day before. It was playing a calmer and more even melody. She felt herself compelled to follow the music, just to hear it all the better. She stopped outside of Alfred's door in the West wing and just listened. After a few moments the tempo picked up and the instrument screamed. She made a noise without realizing and the door opened of its own accord. Alfred stood with the noise maker attached to his chest with a strap.

"Good morning, it's been fun and all. But do ya think you can tell me how to get my room back in my house?"

"I do not know how you arrived in the first place."

Her tone was very solemn. She honestly knew nothing of how Alfred had come to be here with her. But she had the feeling that even if she did, she would not share this information with him. As much as his grating words and oafish behavior angered her, she did not wish to be alone again.

"Chillax dudette. Where's breakfast?"

"Are you not going to change?"

He was wearing the same red shirt with faded white curling script across the chest as the day before. His pants were the same aged blue with ratty tears around the knees and hem. This morning he wore nothing but socks on his feet.

"What about you, Princess? The nightie is most bodacious."

Alice gasped in horror as she realized she was still in her sleeping gown. How indecent! She excused herself and went quickly to her room and wardrobe. A simple blue knee length dress waited for her. She adorned a thin petticoat beneath it and pulled the dress on over her head. She only needed to fasten the black ribbon in her hair before putting on simple black shoes. As she made her way to the dining room she hoped Alfred had the decency to change his clothing.

She found the room empty of the only other soul besides her. She walked briskly to the West wing only to find Alfred wandering in and out of empty rooms. How foolish she was to think her guest would learn his way in but one day. She was pleased to see that he changed his top at least even if the heathen was still wearing the same pants and shoes. She led him down for breakfast and pointed out important rooms on the way.

After they ate, she continued her tour. She showed him all the rooms that contained anything of importance finally ending at the library. Her pride and joy. She watched his face in anticipation to see his reaction. She was sadly disappointed as his expression remained unchanged and even contained boredom.

"This library got a comics section?"

"I don't believe I know what you mean."

And that was about as far as Alfred's interest with the library went. That is perfectly acceptable she told herself. From her books she knew that different people had different interests and that that was what made people unique. She was sure Alfred had many special talents. His instrument for one! She could ask him about that. Never had she heard a full song played out. She was very curious about music after reading about it.


	4. Chapter 4

After questioning Alfred about his noise maker, Alice was invited into his room to see it up close. He pulled a cord out of the end of it and handed it to her for her to hold after slinging the strap over her shoulder.

"It's an electric guitar. You take the pick and strum it over the strings like this. And you put your other hand here."

Alice felt herself blush as he touched her hands to position them properly on it. At his insisting she gave the strings a strum that produced a noise that wasn't the same as the ones Alfred made when he used it.

"Why does it sound different?"

"It's unplugged. Your first try would probably make us go deaf."

She gave the guitar back and asked him to play something for her. He plugged it back up and pulled it over his head with ease before he started playing something. His fingers moved across the strings in rapid session. The complexity of the music was more than she could wrap her brain around. The noise filled the room from a black box on the floor not far from them. It was pleasant until Alfred made the guitar scream loudly. Alice covered her ears in pain and terror until he stopped.

"You okay?"

"Why do you make it scream so?"

"That's what these babies are for. It's called rock for a reason."

"I believe that you made a mistake and are trying to cover it up."

"No way, I know what I'm doin'. Here. I got the perfect song for you to hear."

He pulled out a yellow device with a black thing attached to it. He then pulled a drawer out of a brown case sitting on top of his dresser and dug through the many objects until he pulled one out. While he was digging Alice took the time to examine the room. There were large portraits of people with big hair all over his walls as well as brightly colored drawings. He had tiny figurines here and there on shelves and the desk. A big black square rested on a table with other boxy looking objects. The room was quite cluttered. It wasn't polite to go through other's things but she suddenly felt compelled to start cleaning.

Alfred put a dark rectangle inside of the yellow box and put the black things on her head covering her ears. He pressed a button and suddenly sound filled her ears. It started out with the gentle noise of the guitar but quickly escalated into an array of noises from multiple instruments. After a few moments of that a human voice was, dare she say, singing in such a way that sounded almost like the screaming guitars. She quickly flung the black things away when it became too much.

"That is what music sounds like?"

"Ain't it great?"

"No. I do not like it. It is too harsh."

Alfred gave her a look that she didn't recognize and she suddenly felt rude for her words. This was his favorite thing he showed her and she just told him she didn't like it. She thought back to how she felt when Alfred didn't care for her library. It served him right. Alfred was already digging in his box again. He pulled out another rectangle and replaced the one in it. He held up the black thing to one ear and pressed several buttons on the yellow box before giving the black thing back to her. She was hesitant to take it.

"It's girly music."

She put the black thing back on and he pressed a button. The music wasn't quite as harsh but still jarring. The singer had a squeaky voice that was a bit easier to understand. It was better but hardly pleasant. Alfred was watching her face for her reaction. She didn't need to say anything before he stopped the music and started digging again.

"I got some of my mom's tapes mixed in here. Her fogy tastes. Oh! You'll totally like this one."

He put the tape in and pressed the button. This time the music was slower and soothing. The woman's voice was a bit raspy. The words were clear and poetic. She could hear familiar instruments from previous songs but they were kinder. Alfred put the yellow box in her hand and left her to listen while he sat on his bed and watched her. She caught herself singing along with the last chorus of the song before it went off. The next song was wilder but the same raspy voice kept her grounded. If music could sound like this, then maybe she could come to like it.

"What is this called? Who is this woman?"

Alfred pulled the headphones off her ears with a chuckle at how she unintentionally was yelling over the music.

"That's Stevie. The group's called Fleetwood Mac. The name of the group and the songs are here."

He pulled the tape out and showed her the side. The white tape had black script across the side. She held it in her hands and examined it. How could songs come out of this small thing? It sounded as if a whole concert was being played just for her. Alfred let her keep the tape and mumbled something about how his mother wouldn't miss it.


	5. Chapter 5

The lights that flickered on were unusually bright. Alice covered her face, almost blinded. The candles that usually woke her with their gentle warm light were gone and replaced by a light in the direct center of her ceiling. Still shielding her eyes, she crawled from the bed and quickly exited her room.

The hallway towards the dining room was lit with the same bright lights from the ceiling. Her head ached from the brightness. This was what she imagined the sunlight felt like. She blindly made her way to the dining room. The chandelier over the table was the same but instead of gas lamps, it glowed with the same artificial lights.

"Alfred!"

"Huh?!"

"What's going on?!"

Alice felt rather than saw Alfred enter the room. She kept her eyes firmly in her forearm.

"What did you want?

"It's so bright. Why is it like this? What have you done?"

"Oh yeah, I noticed all the fire thingies went away. That reminds me, I really need to change the light bulb in my room. Like bad."

"Light bulb?"

"The little bright round things. Look."

Alice lifted her eyes and stared at the fixtures of the chandelier. After a few moments of pain, her eyes adjusted. She could see little glowing balls. How did that work? Where was the fire?

"I can like see your nips through your dress."

Alice gave a horrified scream and covered herself. She was still wearing a sleeping gown! A thin one at that. She excused herself and quickly left for her room. She pulled open her wardrobe and gasped. The dress inside was dark purple with a green trim. But what shocked her was the length. It was so short! It ended just an inch below her fingertips. Her knees and ankles would be completely exposed! The next thing that shocked her were the undergarments provided with it. Two piece of fabric that left her stomach exposed. Her breasts were pressed into cones that pointed them outwards. She pulled on a pair of sheer hose that barely covered her skin. Then she finally pulled on the offending dress. The shoulders were padded and felt heavy. The material felt strange compared to what she usually wore. Lastly she put on some strange brightly colored shoes.

After staring at her reflection for what must have been minutes, she finally left her room. Hopefully Alfred wouldn't laugh. She entered the dining room to see him scarfing down his breakfast like an animal. The pig. Now now. She mustn't think ugly things about others. That wasn't very ladylike at all.

"Have you left any of the meal for me?"

When he looked up, his eyes went wide and he gaped. She must look like a harlot! Why would the wardrobe give her something so awful? She could not even change. The wardrobe only gave her one outfit a day. She could return to her nightgown. But Alfred could see her chest through it. What was she to do?

"You look most bodacious.

"Excuse me?"

"You're hot."

"I don't believe I understand what you are saying."

"Whatever."

Alfred went back to his large plate of food. As Alice tucked into her opening meal, she felt his eyes on her. In the bright lights of the chandelier she felt even more conscious of her flaws. She felt compressed in the clothes. She felt trapped in this room.


	6. Chapter 6

"Could you please turn that music down, Alfred!"

Alice stomped her way to his room in the heavy men's boots that appeared in her wardrobe that morning. She gently knocked on his door while trying to cover her ears at the same time. The loud rock music continued to blare out of the speakers within his room. She knocked again harder. The music continued. She tried the door knob. It twisted.

Alfred lay upon his bed with his arm slung over his eyes. His room was still dim as ever, he never did change that bulb. Alice sat on the edge of his bed and touched his shoulder as she'd seen a picture of a mother consoling her child do. He turned his whole body away so that he was facing the wall.

"Alfred. Alfred!"

Alice stood and went up to the speaker. She saw Alfred on many occasions turn the knobs. So she twisted them all in various ways until the music went away. She went back to his bed and waited. Her ears enjoyed the silence for a few moments. She noticed that his floor filled with clutter again. He cleaned it just yesterday! Should she offer to play his game with him? He seemed to enjoy that. She looked at the black and white box with wires coming out of it. They played many games the other day. She did extremely poorly at these games. Would it cheer him up to defeat her?

"I wanna go home."

That didn't take long. Alice looked to see him staring back. His eyes were ever bluer surrounded by red.

"If I knew how to leave this house, I would have left many years ago."

"How long you been here?"

"I do not know. I forgot. I only know time passed by the clothes in my wardrobe. They change for every season."

"So I'm stuck here forever."

Alice knew nothing else to say so she just rubbed his shoulder. It was unladylike to touch a man who was not your husband or family in such a way, but he need comfort. He also needed a bath. His odor quickly reached her nose.

"You need to bathe."

"Show me a shower and I will."


	7. Chapter 7

Alice picked at her trousers as she read. She couldn't believe how ever masculine her clothes were becoming. Today her outfit consisted of rough blue trousers, a much too small top that barely covered her belly, a jacket made of the same material as her bottoms, and shoes just like Alfred's but in purple. She had to admit it was easier to move around but the fabric chaffed at her skin in a way that her heavy cottons, wools, silks, and velvets never did. She was continuously pulling at the shirt to keep her skin covered.

Her current book was one she'd read many times before. The fanciful tale of Alice in Wonderland. She picked it up the first time because she saw her name written across it in curling gold letters. Sometimes she felt like she was that Alice. At the sound of a crash Alice placed a cord in between the pages she was reading and closed her book. She left the library in search of the cause of the noise. She was unsurprised to see Alfred collecting himself from the bottom of the staircase. He once again was rolling around the house on those roller shoes.

"You'll scratch the wood and break your neck if you continue to roll around on those contraptions!"

"I was just tryna have a little fun."

Alfred spent days rewatching the same three video tapes until Alice became bored. They'd played all his video games until Alice's finger hurt. It was nary a fortnight before she found herself back in her beloved library. She could only entertain Alfred for so long. Once left his own devices, he found more and more interesting ways to injure himself. Alice was tempted to filch his roller shoes and hide them where he'd never find them.

"Is it lunch time yet?"

"Yes. Follow me."

"Don't know how you always know."

Alice led them to the parlor where a strange assortment of sandwiches were displayed on a silver tray. Alfred rushed in and grabbed one. Moaning he sank into one of the armchairs.

"I haven't had a burger in dick year!"

Food fell from Alfred's mouth as he spoke. Alice could barely hold back her disdain. She delicately cut the burger into manageable pieces before trying a bite sized piece. It had a lot of strange flavors, some good and some bad. Alice picked at her burger until Alfred was finished eating.

"You want that?"

"I don't believe so."

Alfred gobbled the remains of her food before she could even blink. How foul. After their meal Alice retreated to her library to finish her book.


	8. Chapter 8

Another day secluded in the library. It surprised Alice how she fell back into her old habits. She barely acknowledged Alfred at meal times and spent her hours locked away reading. Reading was safe. Reading didn't fill her with confusion and rage. She lost herself in stories of adventure she could never live.

Alice froze when she heard an instrument she'd not heard. She looked up to see Alfred enter the library with a string instrument in his arms. It was very similar to his electric guitar but the sounds coming from it were much different. He sat on the arm of her chair. His fingers strummed a quick yet gentle song. Alice closed her book and gave him a questioning look. He smiled, played through to just the right moment, and started singing.

"There's no sense in dancing 'round the subject. A wound gets worse when it's treated with neglect."

"Alfred-"

"Well don't turn now, there's nothing here to fear. You can talk to me. Talk to me. You can talk to me. You can set your secrets free, baby."

It was a song Alice did not recall but from the pace and lyrics she knew immediately who it was by. Alfred's voice was pleasing to listen to. It didn't have the soothing raspiness of Stevie's, but it fit the song nicely. The whole time he sang, his eyes did not waver.

"Well I can see you runnin. Talk to me."

"That was quite wonderful, Alfred."

"Thanks."

"No, thank you. I wish you'd chose to alleviate your boredom in this way more often. Perhaps it would entertain you to write some of your own."

"I ain't so good with words."

"You definitely are not."

Alfred averted his eyes. Alice wondered if perhaps her teasing were out of line.

"I apologize if I've hurt your pride."

"I'm just glad you're talking to me again."

He gave her a sad smile. She had not realized how far into her old ways she'd sunk. She could not remember how many days passed since she spoke last. He was lonely. She would have to make it a point to spend more time with him. She was torn from thought by movement.

Fingers calloused from years of strumming guitars rested on her cheek. When her mind realized his intentions, it was already too lat. Warm lips connected with hers. She felt as if she were watching someone else from outside her body. It was another fairy tale where the hero embraced the princess. But that wasn't right. For the sensitive skin of her lips told her otherwise. This was her. In this moment. She was having an adventure all her own.


	9. Chapter 9

Did she love him? She could not say what love was. Her only experience with the emotion came from countless poems and sonnets. How could one define love? She knew she didn't despise him. She understood him more. He was lonely. She knew nearly nothing about him. Did he love her? Most likely no. From all the stories and ballads she knew of the dangers of lust. And her, as the only other person, could be the only one to receive his affections. She wouldn't make the mistakes of others.

She had no inkling of how to behave around him now. She took to her books for answers. He slept late but it was only a matter of time before he woke and sought her out. She could deny him but there ran the risk of him hating her. She didn't know how she would feel if Alfred started avoiding her. She had done much the same to him and it was obvious how it tortured him so. She could accept his advances, but how the heroines cried when their hearts were broken. Could she behave as if nothing had occurred? Couldn't they just be housemates? She didn't want to jump into anything before she had all of this figured out.

She entered the dinning room for morning meal. Alfred was already there gobbling his meal like a swine in a trough. She greeted him as she'd done every morning before. All he responded with was a grunt. How could she even think to like such a creature.

After breakfast, Alice retrieved Aflred's walkman to listen to her white tape. The yellow machine rested in her pocket with the headphone chord trailing out. She had to admit, pockets were quite the advantage in these new clothing. The fabrics no longer chaffed her. She found herself in the ballroom. She never used this room as balls were meant to be had in the company of many. The floor was coated in a thick layer of dust. She'd have to clean it. That was for later though. With the music in her ears, she let it move to her limps. She moved in circles with her arms outstretched like she saw in illustrations in books. She traveled the room in step with the beat. She turned to admire the patterns left in the filth by her steps and locked eyes with Alfred's in the entranceway.

For how long he'd watched she did not know. He created a straight line in the circular patterns on the floor that lead to her. He offered his hand which she took with caution. He moved the headphones from her ear to her neck. He rested his other hand behind her back and changed position of the one that clasped her own. He hummed a tune unfamiliar to her and rocked slowly in time to it. Was this still dancing? His hand was warm and a bit sweaty. They were close enough for Alice to feel his breath on her face. Would he try to kiss her again? She wouldn't have it. She looked up to see his eyes closed. Oh no. What to do. What to do.

Alice spun away into the circles she made before. She kept her eyes closed and ignored the empty silence now that the humming was halted.


End file.
